


Flashes of Askr

by CuddleMeister



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Anonymity, Crack, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, Flash Fic, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fondling, Foreplay, Gen, Gender-Neutral Summoner | Eclat | Kiran, Gentle Sex, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, exposed chests
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-04-06 18:31:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14062902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddleMeister/pseuds/CuddleMeister
Summary: A castle full of Heroes from various timelines and realms - Bodies writhing with hormones and chemical reactions - What the hell else is an army of summoned allies supposed to do in its free time?A (hopefully) growing collection of naughty FE Heroes flash fictions to help me hone my slash skills, my scene adaptation skills, and my context skills.Ch 5: Genny/Sonya





	1. Fertility (Alfonse/Niles)

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings. I now come to join the bandwagon of collections I tend to find floating around here. Coitus collections. Slash flash. Explicit escapades. I'm sure there are many other names I could use, but I'll let you take your pick. Not everything will be explicit. In fact, some of these will probably be teen-rated. This is a mere experiment; I just happen to enjoy writing smut very, very much.
> 
> It seems that, when I'm stressed out or anxious, I tend to write. I tend to write naughty things. Sometimes I tend to draw naughty things as well. I've been quite stressed out as of late (immigration, work, travel, etc.) so I'm sure you can piece together my point. Plus, I'd like to practice different prompts/scenarios/character chemistry experiments. I do, contrary to my writing history on this site, write slash that is NOT M/M, after all. 
> 
> Feel free to send me a suggestion for pairing, as I'm occasionally one-dimensional with my preferences. Won't guarantee that I'll write about it, but I'll give it my best shot~
> 
> Anyway, this first ditty came to mind when the new spring Heroes were announced. I was...moderately blessed during this spring banner, and was inspired by Alfonse's new design. Please enjoy.

"And here I thought you were the modest type."

"What do you want, Niles?"

Alfonse spared the outlaw an irritated glance. His hand remained wrapped around the door handle, and even as he acknowledged Niles' blatant trap of an offer for conversation, he debated if he would still have time to slip into his chamber and slam the door in the man's face. Still, a morbid curiosity had surfaced in the prince's core at Niles' remark. This, of course, had occurred moments _after_ Alfonse began weighing the consequences of humiliation from turning tail and hiding in his room from the Order's sauciest Hero.

The outlaw's callused hand came to his mouth in mock shock. "Why, I was merely paying you a much-intended compliment," he said, and spread an arm in gesture to the prince's attire. "After all, this is quite a _different look_ for you."

Alfonse's cheeks colored slightly as he looked down to regard his...festive getup. Sharena was still insistent that he remain in costume during the entirety of the spring festival. Days had passed, and he finally had grown used to the restriction of his tight clothing, but the unwanted stares still weighed on his dignity. He returned his gaze forward, and blanched at how close Niles had crept toward him while he was distracted. He seemed awfully interested in the prince's clothing.

"Surely it's not... _that_ different," Alfonse muttered, craning his spine back when Niles' hand lifted and inched toward his frock coat. Fingers trailed fleetingly along his breast, making the gesture seem unintentional. Alfonse knew better than to allow the man such benefit of the doubt. Still, as the fingers swooped to brush against his exposed skin once more, he had to admit that the touch was warmer, milder than he expected. N-Not that he had previous thoughts of the touch before, of course.

"Come now, Prince Alfonse," the outlaw purred, closing in on every inch of space Alfonse provided in backing toward his chamber door. "I've known very few Heroes to expose their...chests...so blatantly. Deep V-necks are usually my thing, you see, so witnessing you in something impossibly deeper than my norm is quite stimulating." Niles took the liberty of trailing down his frock, mouthing "one...two..." as his fingertips rounded over each button. "Not to _mention_..." The fingertips stopped just shy of his white trousers, and the prince stifled a gasp for fear and curiosity of the trailing to continue. "No one would guess how well-endowed you are from your normal attire. I have to say, I'm not disappointed."

Alfonse's back pressed against the door of his chamber, and he swallowed hard as the outlaw continued to lean in, crowding every bit of open space he had. It was almost too much. His gaze remained fixed on Niles' fingertips, unmoving from the bottom hem of his frock. Despite the provocative location of those fingers, staring at them kept him tethered to sane thoughts, and prevented him from blushing anymore than he already was. "T-Thank you for the compliment, but I feel it inappropriate to go so far as to comment on my...my size."

"Why ever not?" the outlaw asked, tilting his head this way and that in an attempt to catch Alfonse's gaze. "Does it not tickle your fancy to know how many men and women glance your way every morning during breakfast? Does it not make you feel emboldened, presenting two of your greatest assets to all of Askr?" One hand strummed along the muscles on Alfonse's chest, while the other brushed just comfortably enough against his groin to stir a shudder from the prince's diaphragm. He knew he could right then and there push Niles away and slip into his chambers without fuss...but he didn't. And, much to his own chagrin, he knew exactly why. "Do you not swell with pride from your masculine display, despite the silly bunny ears on your head?"

"Please, don't mention my bunny ears," Alfonse groaned, but Niles wasn't listening. He was too busy reaching to take one of the drooping ears of the silly hat in hand and tugging, pulling Alfonse forward and capturing his lips in a kiss. The prince's eyes screwed shut as his mouth was worked open, but he didn't recoil. He just didn't want to witness an unlucky soul rounding a corner of the castle corridors and finding Niles and himself in such a state...that is, until Niles brushed against his groin once more, this time running along the shape of his shaft beneath his clothing. Then his eyes burst open and he broke the kiss with a start. Niles eyed him smugly, then reached for the chamber door handle.

"You know that the rabbit is a sign of fertility, right?" he breathed. Alfonse felt an arm snake around his waist, felt his body drawn forward and against the warm torso of the outlaw, heard his chamber door swing open with a low creak, and felt himself whisked inside. He nodded dumbly to the question, and quivered as the outlaw holding him close chuckled, a soft and deep sound that the prince felt on his cheeks as it whistled through his nose.

"Shall we see just how fertile you are, then...?"


	2. Gentle (Valter/Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a little more light-hearted, hopefully. Or, well, as light-hearted as a Valter chapter gets.  
> Please enjoy!

When you first summoned him, you _may_ have feared for the safety of the Order. You _may_ have consulted with the royal Askran siblings for countless hours to come up with a way to keep him in your ranks. You _may_ have gotten glares dripping with anger from Ephraim and Eirika when he appeared in the dining hall for the first time. You _may_ have lost sleep for a few nights checking his chambers through the early morning hours to verify that he was - in fact - sleeping at night, and not slaughtering his allies. You _may_ have been reluctant at first to invest in his growth, to give him more powerful lances, to equip him with skills capable of making the enemy quake with fear, everyone from a swordsman to an archer.

You _may_ have also been worrying over nothing - at least, for now. You ponder these arguments as he pulls your cloak the rest of the way from your body. The bed sinks a little, your attention returns to the present, and suddenly he is straddling you.

"I cannot tell if you are bold, or merely stupid," Valter breathes, and you swear to yourself as your cheeks burn at the sound of that throaty voice. He seems to notice your blush, but only smirks and shifts his weight to bring a knee between your legs. "Or perhaps you've just grown to somehow trust me by letting your guard down. Surely you remember that I could still kill you any moment I wish."

"You haven't brought your lance today, though," you argue, trying in vain not to react to the subtle yet short work his knee is making of your groin. At that, a glint of hunger may have flashed across his midnight gaze, but you aren't sure. All you know is that his gloved fingers are thrusting toward you and wrapping around your throat. You freeze, uttering a fearful yelp. Only when his chest is heaving in a chuckle do you realize that his chokehold is loose enough for you to still breathe. You silently thank the gods that you won't be found dead and partially undressed in your own bed tonight.

"I don't need a weapon to kill you, Summoner," Valter says, his tone dipping so low, his face drawing so near to yours, that your breath hitches. As he pulls his hand from your throat, you smell the battlefield on him, even with his cape and armor removed for the evening. The iron and copper scent of blood hits you, but you'd be lying if you said it was offensive. You even seem to smell it on his breath, warm like a fresh wound as he leans into kiss you and beckon your tongue to play with his own. Surely this moonstone doesn't consume the same flesh of that which he so often hunts...!

"Just...please don't be too rough," you manage to say, and both of you know you're not referring to a kill.

He says nothing, only removes his glove and sifts a hand through the clothing that separates his skin from yours. His bare fingers draw soft lines of ice across your stomach, lifting a violent shiver from somewhere in your core. Despite the chill, the touch lulls you into a daze. After all, these same hands, hands soaked to the brim in the lives of others, hands that grip a lance with no trace of hesitance - even in the most dire of scenarios, hands that resemble vulture talons during battle, are now skating across your torso with little effort or strain. You almost wonder if he's a completely different person like this until you meet his gaze and can practically _feel_ the harrowing weight that those eyes press onto you.

Perhaps he grows bored of your inaction, for his frigid fingers now find refuge down your trousers. The movement isn't quick, but it is deliberate, and it startles you nonetheless. A moan forces its way from your lungs, and there's that hungry twinkle again, gods damn it. The fingers press against you, instantly coating in your moisture. It's an embarrassing thought, but he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, the fingers make a lazy motion of exploring your inguen, acquainting themselves, testing your sensitive spots, and overall driving you to the brink of madness with need.

"I wonder," you try and giggle before a wave of ecstasy turns your giggle into a gasp, "I wonder how such a bloodthirsty general can touch another person so gently." He raises an eyebrow in response, his movements stopping. You consider apologizing for your insensitivity, but before you can speak, he begins to work you, violently, quickly, and with enough force to make you bleed, but only for a moment. Only long enough to make you grip the bedsheets in either hand and groan headily. Then he's still once more, and you stifle a whimper of protest.

"It's simple," he growls, his hand withdrawing from beneath your clothing. "It is far more satisfying to toy with your prey before a kill. The same goes for seduction, one might say, and since you're one of my...most desired prey, I must toy with you, thoroughly." He makes a show of slowly bringing those glistening fingers to his lips and sliding his tongue over the digits to lick them clean. You swallow as his free hand begins to relieve his trousers of his legs, freeing his cock and making your insides clench at the thought of receiving it. You make to remove your own clothing, but his knee stops you, shoving tighter between your legs and making you start. You glance up at him, but not for long. His gaze is too dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valter is one of my biggest Heroes husbandos. Fight me.  
> I hope I was able to make the gender of our summoner as anonymous as possible in this chapter. I wanted all types to be able to enjoy this one, and it's my first time narrating as reader, so please let me know if there're any improvements I can make.


	3. Teach Me to Dance (Soleil/Ninian)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Ninian offers to help Soleil with her dancing skills using some...unorthodox methods.
> 
> I've been itching to write about Soleil for ages, but I ship her almost exclusively with Ophelia, and considering Ophelia hasn't made it into Heroes (YET) I decided to explore some other character interactions. Please enjoy!

_How did we even get here?_ Soleil thought as fabric drifted like ice, floated like petals from a forget-me-not. It rounded over alabaster shoulders, swept around modest torso curves, and fluttered to the chamber floor with almost hesitance from the air in the room, until Ninian stood bare, careful eyes glossing at her from an angelic doll's face. Even still, her dress appeared to catch the slightest draft of air and sway at her feet like lakeside silver grass.

Oh gods. Soleil beheld the dancer with a pinch of her lip between her teeth, but couldn't help also glancing down at the discarded clothing. Even her dress could dance. It lay without shape on the floor, useless without slender legs or shimmying hips to carry it, and _still_ the dress could dance better than Soleil!

"Does my form...please you?" Ninian breathed. Soleil could have remained envious of the dress as it wavered tauntingly back and forth in the dusk breeze, and _would_ have if not for the delicate fold of Ninian's limbs across her naked body. Her arms crossed, yet barely seemed to touch, only obscuring her no-doubt pert nipples and leaving Soleil's wandering eye with a rosy peek of areolae and the beautiful formation of cleavage with her arms so deliberately wrapped across her bust.

"Forget pleasing _me_ ," Soleil said, displaying the color in her cheeks with a quirk of the lip. "You're _way_ too cute. I should be asking if I please  _you_. You even took off your clothing with more flourish than I did!" She gestured to herself, making a mental comparison of their naked figures. She had few qualms with her own body, but could see the subtle dip in Ninian's waist, the proportion of her legs to her hips as they squeezed together bashfully. Those features were similar to Azura and to her grandmother, whereas her own hips were boxier than even her father's. No wonder she struggled to dance like they did.

_Oh yeah, and_ that's _how we got here._

"Shall we...practice together, then?" Ninian offered, dragging Soleil from her reverie as her arms withdrew from her chest and spread at her sides as though she was still bearing her veil. "I can show you a few simple movements." Soleil made to mimic Ninian's stance, but stopped. She was, of course, still interested in learning, but found herself struck with a far more pressing curiosity that needed attending to first.

"Before you do," she began, forcing herself to continue speaking before she had a chance to take back her thoughts, "You can totally say 'no,' if you want -- because I understand if this is a weird request and won't feel bad if you decline it -- it's just -- if you're completely okay with it, can I -- would it be find if I...touched your breasts?"

Ninian was silent for a moment, but despite the lack of shock or disgust that Soleil was expecting, the rubies in her eyes bore through the mercenary nonetheless. Soleil's blush deepened.

"Seriously, you can say 'no' if you want. They're just...they look so soft."

Ninian smiled. It was such a faint smile that Soleil nearly missed it, but it was genuine all the same. Was there even a glimmer of amusement in that smile? Soleil wasn't sure; all she knew was that Ninian was stepping forward, her arms lowering and hiding behind her back to accentuate her modest bust. Soleil's hands seized the opportunity before she even knew her hands were lifting, cupping a breast in either palm, seeming to compare their weight, testing their suppleness by pressing them to her ribcage and kneading them in that position. Ninian uttered barely a sigh, and, much to Soleil's chagrin, that calmness went straight to her bare nipples, erecting them to the cool dusk air. She almost felt shame at allowing the dancer to see her body react in such a perverse way. Almost.

"Y-You're just...you're so beautiful," she stuttered, trying so hard not to clench as she felt Ninian's own nipples grow stiff beneath her fingers. She had done nothing to deserve to fondle such a pair of perfect breasts. What, indeed, _had_ she done to deserve these breasts? "Ah, t-that's right. You were showing me some of your techniques." Her hands fled, reluctantly, but still Ninian remained close. "Why don't we resume, then?"

Ninian said nothing, only leaned in, brushing her lips with the mercenaries. She took Soleil's hands in her own, and guided them back to her chest, where Soleil gladly resumed her massaging, her squeezing, her teasing of stiff nipples.

"M-Miss Ninian," she argued, despite the contentment of her fingers. "I don't want to disrupt our time together. I'd still love for you to teach me to dance!"

Finally, Ninian giggled. No sound escaped her tender lips, but Soleil felt the gentle heave in her chest through her busy hands. Soleil stared deep into the dancer's eyes, searching for meaning to her reaction, and gulped.

"Have no fear," Ninian cooed, "There are many ways...to learn to dance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Ninian, and I hope I get her during the newest focus banner. Maybe this flash fic will give me good luck~  
> Thank you for reading, and for your patience as I overcome a bout of writer's block!


	4. Perfect (Alfonse/Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Alfonse enjoys a moment of tenderness whilst balls deep inside his lover.
> 
> I had so so so much fun with the previous reader slash chapter, so I decided to give it another shot! I find that keeping gender ambiguity can be a challenge during x-rated segments with a gendered character, so maybe that explains my current gravitation toward it. Feel free to offer advice on further honing the ambiguity of Kiran in these chapters, if you like~
> 
> Also, a lovely thank you to [Uchiha_Riddle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uchiha_Riddle/pseuds/Uchiha_Riddle) for the suggestion!

His movements pause, and your eyes flutter open, drawing to the heap of softly huffing prince that hovers above you. Your arms lift, skimming thighs, rounding bent pelvis, tickling midriff, but none of your touches stir a reaction. He remains still, his head bowed as he pants, his wet bangs dangling over you. You're able to admire the sight for a moment, but, alas, you are quick to crave the slide of his cock in and out of you once more, not the current vague fullness of his still member inside of you. You're not quite one for impatience during intimacy, but you give an experimental squeeze around him anyway, and he finally flinches.

"Surely you're not already tired out," you whisper with an inaudible chuckle. His eyes eventually meet yours, and if you weren't already so fixated on his penetration, you fear you would drift into the nothingness of that steel blue gaze.

"My apologies," Alfonse mutters, adjusting his elbows on either side of your head. "It's just, since it's our first time together, I...seem to have gotten a bit overwhelmed with emotion."

"And why didn't you express those emotions to me?" you respond with a quirk of an eyebrow. Even in the dark of the bedchamber, you see his cheeks flourish in a blush, and your fingers stroke his sides comfortingly, despite your desire to tease him further.

"You're right, of course," he concedes. He moves to cup one side of your face, a thumb tracing the structure of your cheekbones, and he sheepishly smiles. "You're just...perfect. So perfect that I don't know what to do with myself."

Then he's kissing you, and for a moment you're left reeling. He kisses as though he's been starved of affection his entire life, lips wrapping around yours desperately, tongue prying harder, searching deeper, coaxing more, _more_ , so much so that, until you've returned to your wits, you barely notice that he's moving again. His thrusts are deliberate but erratic, as if his mind is wrestling between attention toward your mouth and toward your opening. You help him decide by gripping a handful of golden-tipped locks in your fist and smothering his lips closer, because if he gave you too much sensation in both areas, you'd surely finish long before himself.

Alfonse grunts in defiance, relinquishing you of his lips just as you begin murmuring your lewd wishes into the depths of his mouth. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, suckling your skin, grazing teeth along your tendons. You make to sink your fingernails into his back, but can't keep them in place. His skin is too slick, and your grip is growing too weak under the buck of sharp hips that sap you of your strength and only seems to give him a second wind. He pants against you, warming your neck with his breath as you helplessly claw his back, leaving red lines of passion. You can't take it much longer.

"A-Alfonse, I won't la--hah-!" It's no use. His body won't stop moving, his cock penetrating you deeper, spreading you wider, sheathing inside of you _over_ , and _over_. And just when you feel like you've reached your limit, he withdraws his face from your neck and fixes an unfocused gaze on you, cradling your trembling frame in arms surprisingly tender compared to the havoc his lower half is wreaking upon your own. You want to look away, want to hold out for just a bit longer, but you can't.

"You're so perfect, Kiran," says Alfonse, and his voice _aches_. Gods, he's perfect, too, and you would definitely say as much, if only your mouth could form words. Instead, you're rendered senseless, bouncing beneath his hips like a mere toy as he reminds you over and over that you're perfect, you're perfect, and you climax. The entire castle would surely know of your pleasure, too, if not for the prince's lips fastened around yours to help absorb your heady outcries. He kisses you long and thoroughly as you slowly come down. When your lips part, he greets you with a smirk.

"I had no idea how much you enjoyed that kind of talk," he chuckles, and you playfully smack his cheek in response.

"Nonsense," you argue. "You underestimate how proficient you can be all on your own." Alfonse's gaze drops, and for a moment you fear that he misconstrued your words, but then your attention is reverted to the throbbing member still inside of you. It pulses at your words, and you remember that he has not finished yet. It wouldn't do to hog all of the fun tonight, would it? You run a hand down his leg, tickling his skin, memorizing every ticklish twitch he makes. "What about you, then? You've still yet to have your happy ending. After all, you're perfect as well."

"I am...no such thing," he mumbles, but you see the red in those cheeks, and smile. 

"Why don't I prove you wrong, then?" 


	5. First (Genny/Sonya)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Genny asks for Sonya's advice.
> 
> I considering writing this one a bit more lewdly, but Genny is a lil sheep who does not deserve to be hurt, so this chapter is just T-rated, or even G-rated, perhaps. Enjoy!

_The princess is then caught off guard by the young duke's fingers around her wrist, staying her departure. She looks over her shoulder at the man wistfully, and a question plays upon his lips, but alas, he says nothing._

_"I cannot stay," the princess pleads, but does not pull from his grasp. "The guards will no doubt be privy to my intrusion by now. I do not wish to be caught."_

_"When can I see you next?" the duke finally blurts as she is about to move. A breeze lifts, shifting his curly locks, and in the silvery moonlight she catches the emerald glimmer in his eyes._

What is this feeling? _she wonders._

_"I know not," she admits, turning back to him one last time and resting her free hand over her chest. Her palms are clammy...but why? "I wish I could see you tomorrow, and the next day, and every day thereafter. But I cannot."_

_"Then grant me, I pray, to offer you a parting gift," he murmurs. He closes the distance between them in a careful step._

_The princess's heart begins hammering in her chest. What sort of parting gift could he possibly offer to her?_

_The duke's face inched closer, obscuring the balcony around them, and..._

Genny sat huddled against the barrack's wall and adjusted the candle next to her to get a better view of her parchment. Her eyes skimmed the last few lines of her writing over and over. They remained still, still there, but so did the charcoal stick in her fingers, tapping against the floor expectantly.  Her hands and the page were smudged dark with various attempts to erase words after her writing trailed off. It wasn't that she wasn't sure what to write next - it was that she wasn't sure _how_ to write it. She intended for the prince to share a passionate kiss with the princess before her departure, but there remained a pressing issue.

 _How do I write a passionate kiss?_ she wondered.

"There you are," came a familiar voice, interrupting Genny's thoughts. "I was wondering where you'd skipped off to after dinner."

"Good evening, Sonya." Genny looked up at the mage, who was eyeing her parchment inquisitively.

"What are you writing?"

"Oh, it's a story I've been working on for some time." Genny proudly shuffled through the small stack of pages she had accumulated through her writing. She had started the story upon first being summoned to Askr, and how far her writing had come since then! "It's about a princess, nothing special."

"You seem stuck, though," Sonya observed.

Genny nearly asked her why she thought so, but remembered the charcoal smears on the pages and on her fingers, and instead blushed. "I'm a little bit stuck, yes."

"Perhaps I could be of assistance." Sonya crouched, and joined Genny on the barrack floor. Her dress swept beneath her in a way that, even though she was sitting with her legs tucked to the side, gave her an air of elegance, Genny thought. Like she was lounging on a plush sunbed and not on cool stone.

"If you'd like to help, I..." Genny handed Sonya the topmost page of her writing sheepishly. "I don't know what I should put after this last part."

Sonya read the page in silence. Genny wanted to watch her, wanted to catch any subtle gesture she might make that would indicate if she liked the writing or not, but Sonya's face was as blank as the bottom of the page. Finally, she drew her eyes from the parchment and gave Genny a puzzled look.

"Why do you need help? Obviously the duke is about to kiss the princess in this next part."

Genny hid a sliver of disappointment behind her eyes. She was almost hoping that her writing might be vague enough to where Sonya would suggest another direction altogether, but it seemed it was too transparent, so she simply nodded at the mage.

"Isn't writing a kiss scene pretty easy?"

Genny's cheeks burned a shade akin to her hair as she stared down at her other pages. "Not for me. I don't know how..."

"What do you mean?"

"I've...never kissed anyone before."

Sonya's expression softened, and it only made Genny's pink embarrassment flourish. She knew it wouldn't be much of a surprise to anyone, having been raised at the priory with few chances for love or affection in a non-sacred way. How could she possibly write her stories, however, without knowing something as simple as how a princess and a duke should kiss? 

"I'm afraid I can't help you write a kiss scene," Sonya sighed. "Writing stories isn't really a strong suit of mine."

"I understand." 

"But...maybe I can help you in another way." Sonya shifted to better face Genny, resting a hand on her shoulder until her head rose, a lingering blush still dusting her cheeks. "Have you ever wanted to know what a kiss feels like?"

"Of course I have," Genny said without hesitation. "Every girl has. I just haven't had the chance, or the right person, to experience it with."

Sonya was silent for a moment, as though she were choosing her words carefully. "Would you like me to show you?"

Genny nearly blanched at the words. Sonya? Being her first kiss? Sonya? Another woman? Sonya? Offering to kiss her at all? Such an idea was crazy. What if they were caught? What if she hated it? What if she messed up? It was almost too risky...but it would help her continue her writing. Plus, she did indeed wonder what a kiss would feel like. 

"Perhaps," Genny murmured.

"I'll need a straight 'yes' or 'no.' None of these 'maybe' words. You only get one first kiss, after all."

Sonya was right. If she was at all unsure, then it would definitely be a bad first kiss. 

"Then yes." Genny grasped fistfuls of her dress, but he was confident in her words. "Please, show me."

Sonya smiled and tilted the girl's chin toward her. Genny forced herself to look into the mage's dark eyes and gulped. She was really going to go through with this? It seemed that way as Sonya's eyelids drooped and her face drew closer, and closer. Genny understood this part, and was proud of how she wrote it in her story. _The only thing next is..._

Lips, softer than goose down, pressing and firm, yet, careful as they molded against Genny's. Sonya's face was so close that their noses brushed, and Genny could smell the spice of her perfume, with a hint of...warmth, bodily and organic, like coming home to baked bread. Genny's eyes remained open long enough to process that Sonya's were closed before she too let them drift shut. With her mind shut off into darkness, the kiss seemed to last a decade, with Sonya's head tilting this way and that, seeming to lightly press every bit of her lips against Genny's. 

And like that, the kiss was over. Their lips broke, Sonya's fingertips leaving her face like the passing of a breeze, leaving her cold for a moment with the absence of the warmth. Genny's eyes fluttered open to find Sonya giving her an uneven smirk.

"Well?" she asked. "Do you feel inspired now?"  
  
Genny giggled timidly, unable to calm herself for a moment. That's right - that's what all of this was about, wasn't it? This was to help her write her story, right? Did she feel like she understood what to write now?

"Definitely," she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, more than 1,000 words. I'm happy with this one, though. I've been trying to stretch my writing chops after not writing for nearly a year. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
